


dreamer on the run

by rarmaster



Category: Klonoa (Games)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-28 00:20:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17776991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rarmaster/pseuds/rarmaster
Summary: He visits your dreams.





	dreamer on the run

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sinceraly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinceraly/gifts).



> HAPPY BIRTHDAY ALYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY

You’re dreaming.

It’s nothing specific. Greys and deep blues paint themselves across your psyche, ringing out a bottomless sea of sorrow and longing that cradles you and carries you in its currents. You’re used to dreams like this. The only new thing about them is the sweetness attached to the longing—something wistful instead of a desperate ache—but even that longing is something you’re familiar with, because it’s clung to you ever since _he_ left.

A voice calls out to you.

“Hello?”

 _His_ voice.

And suddenly, the depths of your dream are all soft and warm, painted with yellows and a gentle breeze. The longing sharpens, but the sorrow ebbs away ( _as much as it can, anyway, when sorrow is the thing you know better than anything else_ ) until it barely pulls at you.

You turn to the source of the voice.

“Klonoa?” you ask, surprised.

And there he is. The Dream Traveler. The one who stopped you, accepted you, made sure the world would never forget you. He stares at you for a long moment, like he can’t believe what he’s seeing, and for a moment, you’re afraid.

But then he smiles.

It’s wide and bright, the points of his teeth glistening in the dream’s glow.

“It’s you!!” he says, and he bounds towards you in two quick leaps, the dreamscape below his feet coalescing into vibrant pools where his toes touch the ground. The vibrancy’s ripples push against the dullness that you fill the dream with, dullness that fills up with Klonoa’s joy as he takes you by the hands and squeezes your fingers tightly.

“H- Hello,” you say in return. It’s very warm, for some reason. _Thump, THA-thump,_ goes your heart in your chest. “What- What are you doing here?”

“I heard your voice calling out to me, so I followed it here,” he answers, with that gentle smile of his. Sorrow stirs in your soul again, though, as his joy becomes dipped with concern, eyes narrowing as he leans in and studies you. “Is- is everything okay?” Klonoa asks, hasty. “Is Lunatea in trouble?!”

You shake your head, wanting more than anything to reassure him that you’re alright, his promise has not been broken, the world is restoring and working with you to rebuild your kingdom—there is no danger that he must stop, or save you from.

“No, no,” you tell him. “No trouble.”

“Oh.”

Klonoa looks surprised, and more than that, confused. Like he isn’t sure how he could be here, if there isn’t any trouble.

( _Maybe he’s just something you dreamed up, but his confusion, and the weight of his hands gripping yours—that feels real enough._ )

“Are you sure everything’s okay?” Klonoa asks, and he leans even closer to you, his snout almost brushing your cheek even as you pull away, laughing— _laughing_ —with how startled the action makes you.

“I’m sure, I’m sure!” you insist. You fidget where you stand, bright water that hasn’t quite decided if it wants to be anything else yet rippling under your feet as you shift your weight. You don’t know what to do with the warmth that bubbles in your chest, and, embarrassed, you turn your head away from Klona’s scrutinizing gaze so you don’t have to see it.

Klonoa hums for a long moment, as he studies you.

“You’re sad, though,” he declares, finally.

He says it with such childlike certainty that it makes you overwhelmingly fond. The water beneath your feet steadily transforms into a field of warm flowers.

You chuckle, the tone somewhat empty.

“Being sad’s my job,” you tell him. You are the King of Sorrow, after all.

Klonoa doesn’t look convinced. He lets out a frustrated little puff of air that stirs the fur on your cheeks because he’s still so so _so_ close to you. “Yeah, well,” Klonoa begins, and then he looks around, considering the dreamscape the two of you stand in. “This is a dream, isn’t it?” he asks. “Which means… you’re sleeping, right?”

There’s something hopeful in the tilt of his words that makes you nervous.

“Yes,” you answer, heart pounding against your ribcage.

Klonoa grins. It’s like sunshine bursting within your chest.

“Then you’re off the clock, aren’t you?” he says.

“Uh.”

You feel like you should try and deter him. It’s hard to when he’s grinning like that, when he’s gripping your hands as tightly as he is, tugging on them gently as he skips backwards, as if to whisk you away.

“Come on, come on!” Klonoa insists, pulling you along through this sun-kissed field, the breeze stirring up the flowers around you. “Let’s do something fun together! What makes you happy?”

“I- I…” you stammer.

For a moment, your heart stops beating.

Tripping over your own feet as he keeps tugging on you, like something happier lies over a hill you have yet to cross, the dreamscape painted with the joy and nervousness that bursts again and again like fireworks in your heart, you meet his golden eyes and try to think of a suitable answer that has nothing to do with him, and you fail.

 _He_ makes you happy, happier than you’ve ever known how to be, and…

“I- I don’t really know,” you lie. You could coat it with something about how it’s not like _you_ —the _King_ of _Sorrow_ —have exactly had the chance to figure out things you _enjoy_ doing, but you think saying something like that would break Klonoa’s heart, so you keep your mouth shut, just so he doesn’t stop smiling the way he is now.

It looks like Klonoa gets the hint of that, anyway, because his smile softens at the edges with sorrow. He stops tugging on you, humming a hum that vibrates deep in his throat.

“Hmmmm.” He drags the sound out, extracting one hand from yours to tap at his chin, which is. Cute. There’s nothing about his floppy ears, slightly-askew hat, and bright expression that _isn’t_ cute, actually. It makes you _ache_.

If neither of you say anything, you think you’re going to explode, so:

“What makes you happy?” you ask him, quickly.

“Oh!” He brightens at the question, one hand still squeezing yours. “A lot of things do,” he answers. He swings your hand back and forth, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. A gentle breeze caresses you both. “Friends, and music, and sunny afternoons. But, _especially_ —”

He pauses for dramatic effect. Anticipation clutches at your chest, and then—

You laugh, surprised, and somewhat underwhelmed, when two popsicles appear out of nowhere and hang in the air in front of you, conjured and suspended by the dream’s whims.

“Ice cream?” you ask, raising your eyebrows in Klonoa’s direction.

He beams at you.

“Ice cream makes me happy! _Especially_ when I get to share it with friends!” The smile on his lips is so warm and gentle it feels like it’s just for you.

You blush, and reach out with your free hand to grab one of popsicles, while Klonoa grabs the other. Then he sits down amongst the flowers, tugging you so that you sit down next to him. His knee brushes your thigh. You make a show of examining the ice cream, not wanting him to know how flustered you are.

“Chocolate okay?” Klonoa asks, watching you eagerly. “It’s my favorite, but—well, it’s _your_ dream. You can change the flavor if you’d like!”

You can’t remember the last time you had ice cream. You don’t remember what your favorite flavor is. It might have been strawberry? You give chocolate a try, though, since Klonoa said it was his favorite.

It’s… pretty good, actually.

You chat, while you eat your ice cream. You tell Klonoa about Lunatea, and how everyone’s been, and Klonoa tells you about his latest adventure. And then you talk about other things. Nonsense things. Until you’ve run out of things to talk about, and Klonoa fills the silence by whistling a gentle tune, looking content to just be sitting here with you. Your heart feels so full it could burst.

You really can’t pretend any longer.

“Actually, Klonoa,” you confess. He stops whistling, and opens an eye to look at you, patient and curious as you find your words. You fiddle nervously with a flower you’ve plucked from the ground. “I think… I think you were called here… because I missed you.”

“Oh!” Klonoa says. He looks surprised, for a second, but then his smile softens with understanding. It’s such a sad, fond smile, and you almost hate to see it on his face. It looks like there might be a lot of things he could say, or wants to say, but all he says is: “I missed you, too.”

“Do you…” Your fingers pluck petals off the flower, nervous. “Could you come back, to Lunatea?” you ask. You don’t meet his eyes.

He shakes his head. He doesn’t stop smiling.

“No,” he says, simply. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you tell him, even as the clouds form over your heart. You embrace them, rather than trying to beat them back, because this sorrow just means you love him, and—it’s okay, it’s _really_ okay, to miss people you love. There’s nothing wrong with that.

“ _But_ ,” Klonoa continues, kind of eager, kind of desperate. “As long as you want me here, I think I can come back to your dreams, even if I can't return to Lunatea! Would that… Would that make you happy?”

You laugh, fond, touched. You decide not to lie, this time.

“Of course it would,” you tell him. “ _You_ make me happy, Klonoa.”

He grins so wide and so bright it’s like the sun is shining directly into your heart.

“You make me happy, too!” he says.

And you think, coming from the boy who already has so many other things that make him happy, this really shouldn’t make you feel so special, but it _does_ , and you cradle the feeling close to your chest and treasure it.

The dreamscape ripples around you, ground becoming uneven, patches of flowers vanishing, the sky giving way to nothingness. You start to worry, as Klonoa gets to his feet, and you follow. Klonoa doesn’t look worried, though.

“It looks like you’re waking up,” he says. “So I’ll have to go.”

You miss him already, to be honest.

“It’s okay!” he assures you, quickly. “I can come back, remember? So you don’t have to be sad!”

You smile, and, you mean it, when you say:

“Sadness isn’t eternal. Happiness isn’t, either.” Your smile is soft, and you grip his hands in yours, squeezing them tightly. “It’s okay, to be sad. Trying to avoid the sadness… that’s worse. You know that.”

He laughs. “Thanks to you,” he says. “But, here, so this goodbye is a little less sad—”

He steps forward, stands on his toes, and he kisses you briefly, on the lips. It’s sweet, and soft, and not long enough, but his snout bumps yours when he pulls away and it makes your heart flutter.

“There,” Klonoa whispers, golden eyes blazing like the sun. “Just… something happy. To part on.”

“I hope the parting isn’t forever,” you say, squeezing his hands.

“Me too.”

And then he, and the rest of your dream, is pulled away with the wind.

 

( _You do see him again, though. So it’s okay._ )


End file.
